


Once a Bard

by Lithosaurus



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Attempted assassination, F/F, Fluff and blood, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-24 19:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14362080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithosaurus/pseuds/Lithosaurus
Summary: "Josephine shifted slightly as if she was rolling over in bed. The woman paused then pulled a knife from her belt. This was no utilitarian pocket blade. Josephine could see the shimmer of silverite in the dim light. A sneak with a silverite blade, only a well-funded assassin would have such a weapon."When an assassin finds it's way into the Inquisitor's bedroom, Josephine is forced to remember what she once did.





	Once a Bard

Skyhold was nice and safe and greatly improved since the Inquisition had moved into the castle but it didn't change the fact that Josephine was an Antivan and Skyhold was a fortress built in a glacier valley.  As such she sought warm things when she allowed herself luxury.

The fireplace in her office, furs from the Frostbacks, the bitter drink the Iron Bull imported from the Rivain served hot with milk; they were justifiable as she worked better warm. One less justifiable luxury was taking advantage of the Inquisitor's bed. Specifically with the Inquisitor inside.

It would be a scandal of minor order if it became common knowledge due to what assumptions would arise but Josephine had begun spending most nights ensconced in Lady Trevelyan's quarters wrapped in warm bed clothes and pressed tight into Maxima's warmth. They both were raised in proper families and never acts untoward (at least, excluding Orlesian standards) but it was still a luxury and one she cherished for its peacefulness. For a few hours, they could retire from the world and enjoy each other’s company without concerns over troop movements or missing mages or proper attire for Orlesian balls. It was a quiet, solitary place, in Max’s bed.

Which was why Josephine immediately woke up when a stair creaked  unexpectedly. Gina, the usual maid knew to skip the third step from the top as it moaned loudly no matter how gingerly you stepped on it. Josephine listened as footsteps drew closer. Max snored softly on the other side of the bed and the wind howled like it always did around the tower. She focused on the footsteps drawing closer. Gina’s slight limp was gone. Whoever this was walked evenly and softly. It could be a different maid with Gina out sick but Josephine’s instincts told her otherwise. She opened an eye. Snow blew past the windows as the torchlight from the courtyard below cast a glow but the room was dark with the candles out and the hearth burned down to embers.

A shape crossed into her field of vision. A woman in servant garb but no woman Josephine knew. She could recognize nearly all the staff by sight if not by name. Some nobles would consider themselves above association with the servants but Antivans had learned long ago that assassins preferred invisibility in plain clothes.

Josephine shifted slightly as if she was rolling over in bed. The woman paused then pulled a knife from her belt. This was no utilitarian pocket blade. Josephine could she the shimmer of silverite in the dim light. A sneak with a silverite blade, only a well-funded assassin would have such a weapon. The intruder moved toward Max’s side of the bed and a thousand thoughts flitted across Josephine’s mind like lightning. Max would never wake in time and she had no weapons close enough. Max’s kit with blade and armor sat on a far side of the room. The poker at the fire was closer but still miles off for all the good it did. The closest tool was her letter opener but what would that do when the assassin had a dagger as long as her forearm? The assassin took one last step closer and Josephine moved.

She rose from laying to kneeling and flung the heavy quilt at the attacker. The other woman darted backwards but not fast enough to avoid becoming engulfed. Josephine darted to the fireplace, grabbed the poker, and spun to see the assassin shoving off the blanket. Max sat up with a sleep-jumbled question and both of them moved. The assassin plunged forward with her knife as Josephine lunged. Max rolled to her side and Josephine brought the heavy iron rod downward in an arc. Bone and metal connected with a crunch and a shriek of pain. Josephine whipped it up again and then around and into the head of the attacker with as much speed as she could manage.

A sickening crack echoed through the room and the assassin hit the floor.

“Josie?” Max was at her side.

“It appears we had an intruder.” She said. Her voice felt far too loud in her own ears.

A door slammed a level down and footsteps pounded up the stairs. Max released Josephine’s hand and was at the top of the stairs, sword drawn when the guards arrived. Their torches illuminated the scene, giving clarity where Josephine wasn’t sure she wanted it.

An assassin dressed in simple clothes lay dead next to the bed. Her face was beautiful and her hair had the shine of fine oils and soaps but it was spoilt by the damage to the side of her skull. The poker had collapsed the bone above her temple leaving a furrow that leaked blood onto the stone floor. The quilt had fallen to cover part of her legs as if it was trying to keep the dead woman warm. Strangely, Josephine was most aware that she and the Inquisitor were in a state of undress in front of half a dozen guards.

“We’ve had an attempted attack.” Max barked. “Set the castle on alert. Wake the commander and Lady Nightingale. Report anything you know to me.”

“Immediately, ser.”

Five of the guards left without a backwards glance as the sixth neatly reported on finding of Gina’s unconscious and undressed body. Her key had been stolen, allowing the assassin entrance.

Josephine stared at the woman’s face. She swore they had met before. If the woman had been a bard it was entirely possible they had run into one another at some function. Perhaps she had commented on the girl’s singing voice while dancing to the steps of minuets and treaties. Now, her pretty little head was caved in from Josephine’s blow.

“Josephine?” Max closed her hand around Josephine’s wrist and carefully pulled the poker from her white-knuckled grip.

She forced herself to look at the woman in front of her rather than the one on the floor. Max’s face was creased with concern. A candelabra had been lit, illuminating the room without the guard’s torches. They were alone for the time being.

“Let’s sit down.” Max lead her to the desk in the corner and draped a throw around her shoulders.

“The guards are bringing a litter to take away the body.” Max explained. “Leliana and the commander will be here in due time. Before they arrive I want you to look at me. In the eye.”’

Josephine focused on her partner’s eyes. They were wide and blue and creased at the edges but they were not cold, blank, slates of a corpse or the panicked, fearful eyes of a scared woman.

“You’re alive. I’m alive. There are soldiers we know and trust coming. We’re safe and we’re okay because you acted quickly.” She said it slowly and forcefully but gently, not as a commanding officer but as a concerned friend.

Josephine nodded and took a breath. It felt like her first since she had seen the knife moving towards Max.

“We’re safe.” Max said, quieter but with more emphasis. Josephine believed her. She rested her forehead against Max’s and held her close.

-

“I’m not sure I explicitly thanked you.”

“Whatever for?”

“Saving my life.” Max squeezed her fingers when she said it.

“I hadn’t seen it as such.” Josephine admitted. Max’s heart beat under her ear and she tried to focus on that rather than remembering the path the assassin had walked across their room.

It was the first night back in the tower after the attack. Leliana had tracked down the Chantry Mother who had commissioned the bard and quietly resolved the issue. Even with the conspiracy dispatched, Josephine felt on edge. An assassin had made it through their defenses and very nearly killed Max. If it wasn’t for her…

“Of course you did!” Max assured her.” If it wasn’t for your quick thinking I don’t want to know what could have happened.”

“You could have died.” Josephine said quietly. It felt like it was the first time she was truly confronting the possibility since their relationship had reached this point.

Max shrugged. “But I didn’t because you were there. Josephine, I know this shook you but I’m okay. If anything, I feel better about my safety now.”

“How? An assassin nearly killed you!”

“Because you were with me and you are the sharpest woman I’ve ever met.”

Josephine’s protest died in her mouth.

“I know you abhor violence.” Max continued. “And you always prefer other routes but you knew how to act when it was called of you. Do you know what the biggest problem with new recruits is? They freeze the first time they see battle. You can train a soldier within an inch of their life and still not know how they will react the first time they truly face the possibility of death. You didn’t freeze. You acted how you had to. The assassin forced your hand and your hand didn’t waver. You saved me.”

Josephine didn’t answer for a long time. She sat and listened to Max’s heart beat slowly, regularly. It wasn’t the first time she killed someone. The image of the dead woman would join the face of her dead friend at the bottom of the stairs. But the image of Max’s face drained of blood and blank was nothing more than an active imagination.

Max kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”

Josephine let the fear and guilt fade. Instead, she listened to Max’s heartbeat and knew that she had strength of her own.


End file.
